


An Unexpected Exchange

by TanukiMara



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanukiMara/pseuds/TanukiMara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo always knew there was something off about his nephew. He didn't fit in amongst the hobbits. </p><p>And when a stranger shows up on his doorstep claiming that the boy is not his nephew at all, things get a bit... complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> I've messed with the ages here. Frodo was supposed to be born when Bilbo was something like 78, but here Bilbo is only around 20 at his birth.
> 
> Also Kíli is younger than he is in the books.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely HiddenByFaeries.

The Shire was a peaceful land, lying far to the West, full of rolling hills and bubbling streams. The hobbits that lived within were a peaceful people, and this peace was maintained by the Rangers that patrolled the border of these lands, letting none in but the few dwarrows that passed through on their way from Erid Luin or the Blue Mountains to the Misty Mountains.

 

The dwarrows never brought any trouble to the peaceful folk of the Shire; in fact they were most welcome, with their trade and their tinker skills. As it was, they were welcomed with open arms when they chose to come near the settlements.

 

So when a caravan of travelling dwarrows was forced to stop by Hobbiton on their way to the Blue Mountains the best arrangements were made. In exchange for the leader of the troop smithing a few broken items into repair, while several of his other companions busied themselves with odd jobs, the hobbits assisted where they needed it most - one of the young dwarrow females had gone into labour.

 

The babe was almost a full week early, but the hobbits knew how to deal with such a thing. They sent the males from the room of the birthing house, clucking their tongues, and set about helping the poor dwarf through her trial.

 

In the next room over from the dwarf, a hobbit went through a similar situation. Her fauntling was right on time though, as most hobbits are. Both females went through a hard birthing, lasting many hours, and by some strange coincidence, their babes came into the world at the same time.

 

The children were taken to the cleaning room that connected the two birthing chambers, and were tidied up while the mothers were cleaned up themselves. The two young hobbit girls who were cleaning the babes were clucking with excitement as they washed the children side by side, exclaiming over the similarities between the two, from the fuzz of dark hair to the bright blue eyes that gazed up at them both. As with all fauntlings, the little hobbit would grow into his feet later in his years, so he and the dwarf were almost identical.

 

It was an accident, really, when one of the hobbits spilt the bottle of cleaning oil in her excitement. Both hobbits twittered and hurried to clean it up, scrambling for towels. Their superior entered and frowned with disapproval, sending them both from the room and scooping up a babe in each arm. She smiled down at the bright blue eyes that gazed up at her from her right. She knew those eyes very well, for they could only belong to a Brandybuck! Laughing happily she handed the dwarf off to her assistant, who hurried to return the now clean babe to his mother.

 

Both parents gladly accepted their children, holding them close and pressing kisses to their dark hair. But the dwarf was only allowed a mere days rest, before she was loaded back into a cart and they set out for the Blue Mountains once more. Her eldest brother hovered over her protectively.

 

"Rest up, Dís, we shall be home soon."

 

The hobbit beckoned her husband in to meet his new son, a wide smile on her exhausted face.

 

"Meet your son, Drogo. Isn't he beautiful?"

 

\------------

 

Primula Baggins sighed heavily as she watched her son play outside the side of their hobbit hole. She worried about him a great deal, and with good reason.

 

At only twelve years of age, he was not growing like a proper hobbit should - slowly, but surely. No, he was growing even slower! Worse, he had yet to grow into his feet, keeping his soft gentle baby feet. The only thing about him that seemed to grown was his hair! The dark strands had lightened to a lovely brown the colour of earth, and they grew faster than she could cut it. Not that he often let her. It almost seemed to physically pain him to have his hair cut. And it didn't grow the way a hobbit's hair should! It fell in straight waves down his back, rather than the riot of curls every other hobbit had! His bright blue eyes had darkened to brown in the first year, not unsurprising, since Primula's darling husband had eyes of a similar shade.

 

Most unusual was his name! Like all fauntlings when he reached the age of three he was ready to announce his name to them all. And weren't they all surprised when he opened his mouth and announced a name that was not at _all_ hobbit-ish!

 

Sighing once more Primula shook her head to clear the thoughts away. She loved her son dearly and that was all that mattered. A quick glance behind her showed that Drogo finally looked to be finished packing for their trip. Primula once again thought on their decision to leave their son with a cousin, rather than bring him along, but it was the first moment they would have to themselves since their son's birth and neither really wanted to give that up.

  
A loud knock at the door sounded and as Drogo went to answer it Primula stepped outside through the kitchen door, clapping her hands and smiling.

 

"Kíli! Uncle Bilbo is here!"

 

\-----

 

Bilbo whistled softly as he set a plate of biscuits before Kíli. His nephew - cousin, really, but it was easier on the boy this way - dug in happily, stuffing the biscuits almost whole into his mouth. He was an odd child, but Bilbo liked odd, as he himself was rather strange.

 

"Uncle, can we play after?" Kíli asked eagerly. "I want to play swords!"

 

"Oh, I don't see why not, my boy," he smiled at the child. He had many, _many,_ cousins and second cousins, but he was unashamed to say that Kíli was his favourite, and not just because they shared a birthday. "But you're sure you wouldn't rather a nice game of conkers? I promise to go easy on you!"

 

"No, Uncle, swords!" Kíli insisted. "I'm gonna be a great warrior one day!"

 

"Of course you will, my boy," Bilbo chuckled as he ruffled Kíli's hair. Such strange hair. "Of course you will."

 

A loud thump at the door had Bilbo frowning. He glanced from Kíli to the door, his eyes narrowing.

 

"Is it Aunty Lobelia?" Kíli whimpered, sliding under the table. "Make her go away, Uncle."

 

"I agree with you there, my lad," Bilbo murmured, holding a finger to his lips. "Shh, and wait here."

 

He crept along cautiously, pausing at the study window to peer out. To his great surprise it was not the nasty Lobelia Sackville-Baggins on his doorstep, but rather Paladin Took.

 

"Paladin!" Bilbo threw open the door with a wide smile. "What brings you to Bag End? How is young Peregrin? Still getting up to mischief with Meriadoc?"

 

"Bilbo," Paladin's usual smile was missing as he slid his hat from his head and bowed it slightly. "I... May I come in?"

 

"Oh yes, of course," Bilbo stepped aside, a frown on his face. "What is it, old chap?"

 

"I'm here on official Thain business, I'm afraid," he said, eyes heavy with sorrow. "Bilbo... I'm afraid Drogo and Primula... their boat..."

 

"What happened?" Terror gripped Bilbo's heart. "Paladin, what happened?"

 

"It went under," Paladin's voice was a low murmur. "They... There were no survivors. I'm sorry."

 

"Oh no," Bilbo leant heavily against the wall. "No... Prim... Drogo... what..."

 

"Would you like me to tell Kíli?" Paladin asked kindly. "I've broken the news more times than I can count today."

 

"No, it would be best coming from me," Bilbo felt numb as the words slipped from his lips. His eyes shifted to Paladin suddenly. "Kíli! What is to happen to the lad?"

 

"Primula named you as his guardian if anything were to happen," Paladin said, pulling a rather official looking scroll from his bag. "Their home is to be left under the care of the Brandybucks of Brandy Hall until Kíli is of age to inherit, but the boy's care has been left to you. If this isn't agreeable..."

 

"No, of course it is," Bilbo felt a tear slide down his face. "I... I shall arrange for his things to be brought over... Oh my... Paladin, if you'll excuse me... I need... I need to talk to my nephew..."

 

"Of course, Bilbo, of course."

 

Bilbo closed the door behind the Thain and sunk against it for a long moment, trying to steady his breathing. Primula and Drogo were dead. Kíli had no parents. How was he to tell the boy?

 

"Uncle Bilbo?"

 

Bilbo glanced up to see the boy standing at the door, head tilted to the side, a small smile on his face. "Can we play swords now?"

 

Bilbo took a deep breath and crossed to his nephew, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leading him to the lounge.

 

"Kíli, my boy, take a seat. We need to talk."

 

\------

 

Bilbo whistled as he set the fresh tray of cookies on the table behind him. He turned back to close the over, setting down the pot holders as he did so.

 

"Don't touch those yet."

 

A yelp answered him and Bilbo turned, raising his eyebrow at Kíli. Kíli scowled, clutching his injured hand to his chest.

 

"How did you know?" he asked as he tapped at the cookies, testing their temperature.

 

"Because you do this every time."

 

Kíli pouted and dropped down on a chair. And it was _down._ At twenty years of age he was taller than most hobbits, and still growing. His long hair was now pulled back from his face, a few strands touching the forehead. He smiled cheerfully at his uncle, and Bilbo's heart ached.

 

Kíli didn't look like a hobbit. His face was too sharp, his nose too big. He didn't have round, squishy cheeks. No matter how much the boy ate he didn't seem to put on weight, and thanks to his obsession with weaponry and the rangers, he just seemed to develop muscle. After years of the little boy following them around the rangers had given in and begun to train him. His training master insisted that before he wields a blade he must first learn to make one, and had shoved Kíli into the forge. This had awoken a talent in the boy none had expected, and he had begged Bilbo for a workspace of his own.

 

Bilbo had relented, and a shed had been set up in the far back, behind Bag End, where Kíli spent all his free time creating things of great beauty. Word spread around town that Bilbo's strange nephew was capable of fixing and smithing and Kíli had grown quite popular.

 

But he still didn't fit in. His ears were round, not pointed. He never grew into his feet, they were so small! Larger than a Man's, but tiny compared to a hobbits! And there was barely any hair there! But he grew hair on his _face_ of all places! He had hastily taken to shaving it off, seeing how it unsettled Bilbo. When Bilbo had told him it was unnecessary, Kíli had insisted - apparently it interfered with his archery, anyway.

 

Kíli never seemed to mind the whispers about him around town. He doted on his uncle, creating beautiful things for him to hang proudly in his house. And if he still looked greatly younger than his years, well, Bilbo would not let anyone comment on it.

 

"Come along, we've got to head to the markets," Bilbo said, neatly smacking Kíli's hand as he reached for another cookie. "We need more flour, and I believe I promised you a gift for your good behaviour the last time Lobelia came around?"

 

"Oh yes!" Kíli's eyes lit up. "Uncle, Merry says that dwarrows arrived yesterday! Do you think they would have any gold wire? I've nearly run out!"

 

"We can ask," he said with a nod, patting his purse. He, too, had heard that there were dwarrows in town and was prepared to spend quite a bit. It wasn't often they came to trade, so when they did Bilbo was sure to buy everything he would need. "Come along then."

 

Kíli chattered excitedly the whole way to town. He bounced along beside Bilbo, half a head taller than his Uncle, his bare feet thumping the earth. Bilbo smiled indulgently as they made their way to the markets. Kíli had taken the deaths of his parents well considering. He had confessed tearfully years later that he didn't feel very connected to them, and did that make him a horrible hobbit? Bilbo had hurriedly assured Kíli that there was nothing wrong with that. Kíli had responded by climbing into his lap and demanding Bilbo promise nothing would ever happen to _him,_ because Kíli would miss him ever so much.

 

"Kíli, calm down," Bilbo laughed as the boy all but ran into the market. "We've got time!"

 

He was quick to find the dwarf cart, eyes alight as he looked over all the items laid out before him. The stall was run by a dark haired dwarf with a short clipped beard and dark brown eyes. Kíli quickly found the gold wire, and turned pleading eyes upon Bilbo. Bilbo chuckled and began to barter with the dwarf while Kíli began to count his own money - quite a bit, saved up from all his odd jobs.

 

Once Bilbo and the dwarf settled on a price and the gold was exchanged, Bilbo turned to speak to Kíli, only to find him gone. Frowning, he made to turn around, but soft music reached his ears, distracting him. He peered around the side of the cart as the dwarf began to serve another hobbit, and stared at the sight before him.

 

Kíli was crouched behind a barrel, eyes locked on a dwarf who was seated on the cart. He was playing the fiddle, the mournful music twisting in the air. Kíli was captivated. Bilbo stood and watched for a long moment before the dwarf noticed him. He was young, with golden hair pulled back from his face and a braided moustache. He seemed startled to see Bilbo, and then his eyes fell on Kíli.

 

The dwarf shot to his feet, eyes widening in confusion. Kíli startled and scrambled back, darting behind Bilbo and staring at the dwarf.

 

"Who are you?" the dwarf demanded, fiddle clutched before him. "Speak!"

 

"My apologise, Master Dwarf,” Bilbo bowed. "My name is Bilbo Baggins. This is my nephew. I'm sorry; he just likes your music."

 

"Your... nephew?" the dwarf asked with a crinkled brow. "How is that possible?"

 

"He's actually my second cousin," Bilbo said, not sure why the dwarf was confused. "His parents were both related to me."

 

"Oh..." the dwarf sat back down, his head tilted. “I... I must be mistaken...I did not know he was a hobbit."

 

Kíli took the opportunity to bolt off into the market. Bilbo sighed heavily at that. Kíli always got upset when someone thought he wasn't a hobbit. He had been mistaken for a dwarf many times, and even a child of Man once!

 

Bilbo looked back to the dwarf as he raised the instrument to his chin again.

 

"Tell me, Master Dwarf; is that instrument hard to learn?"

 

\----

 

Bilbo found Kíli back in his forge, furiously hammering a piece of metal. Bilbo watched him for a long moment before the boy dropped the metal into the cooling bucket.

 

"Are you done sulking?" he asked. Kíli stiffened and turned to glare at his uncle. "Don't be like that. I have a gift for you."

 

"You already bought the gold wire," Kíli mumbled as he shuffled closer to Bilbo.

 

"Yes, but I bought you something else," Bilbo said gently. He handed the case to Kíli who took it curiously, setting it down on his work bench.

 

Bilbo smiled at the gasp Kíli emitted as he lifted the fiddle from the case. He ran his fingers over the polished wood cautiously, as though he was afraid he would break it.

 

"Uncle..."

 

"Your Uncle Dudo has agreed to teach you," Bilbo smiled. "I told him you would study hard."

 

Kíli set the fiddle gently back in its case before turning wide eyes upon Bilbo. "Thank you, Uncle, but..."

 

"But what?" Bilbo stepped close and lifted Kíli's chin. "You're my nephew and I love you. I want to see you happy."

 

"But I'm not normal," Kíli whispered brokenly. "Merry, Pippin and Sam all say so..."

 

"Never mind what Meriadoc, Peregrin and Samwise say," Bilbo said sternly. "You are perfect, Kíli Baggins."

 

"But I'm so different-"

 

"Nonsense!" Bilbo grasped Kíli's hands. "I see two hands, two feet, two ears, two eyes, a nose and a mouth. Now, look at me and what do you see?"

 

"Uncle-"

 

"What do you see, Kíli?"

 

"Two hands," Kíli mumbled, holding Bilbo's hands tightly. "Two feet. Two ears, two eyes, a nose and a mouth."

 

"Exactly," Bilbo pulled Kíli in close for a hug. "Now no more of this nonsense! We'll go back to the market tomorrow since you ran out before you could make your purchases! Master Frerin says they are to set out the day after tomorrow."

 

"Master who?" Kíli pulled back and stared at Bilbo.

 

"Frerin. That is the dwarf that runs the cart. Why?"

 

"Frerin..."

 

"Yes?"

 

"That's a funny name."

 

"Oh hush!" Bilbo shook his head with a smile. "Come, let's head inside."

 

"Go ahead, Uncle, I'll join you in a moment," Kíli said. "I need to pack up the forge."

 

Bilbo made his way back to Bag End, smiling when he heard the first few tentative notes from the fiddle follow him down.

 

\----

 

Kíli shamelessly took advantage of Bilbo the next day at the cart, but the older hobbit didn't mind, purchasing whatever Kíli desired. The younger dwarf stood beside Frerin this time, but he did not offer his name.

 

"I did not know hobbits were smiths," he said, eyes bright with curiosity as they watched Kíli. "Is it common?"

 

"No, not at all," Bilbo puffed up proudly. "My nephew is the only smith in all of Hobbiton!"

 

"Indeed..." the lad's eyes remained locked on Kíli. “What did you say his name was?"

 

"Kíli Baggins," Bilbo said with a fond smile towards the lad. "Son of Primula and Drogo."

 

"... Kíli?" the lad repeated voice incredulous. "He... really?"

 

"Yes, really," Bilbo frowned at him. "I know it is not very hobbit-ish, but it suits him well!"

 

"Very well," Frerin's eyes were contemplative as they watched Kíli. He raised his voice suddenly. "Ori!"

 

"Uncle! Uncle!" Kíli tugged on Bilbo's arm. "Can I get this engraving knife? It's nicer than anything I can make, and then I can carve those plates like Aunt Belba want-"

 

Kíli cut himself off abruptly, staring at the little dwarf that had clamoured out of the cart to stand beside Frerin, jotting down what the older dwarf was saying on a piece of parchment. The dwarf had hair the colour of strawberries, cut in a childish bowl cut around his face, braids clumsily worked in all over. Kíli stared at him, face slowly turning red.

 

"Kíli?" Bilbo waved a hand in front of his nephew's face. "You alright?"

 

The young dwarf looked up and caught Kíli's eye. A soft blush dusted his face and he offered a shaky smile.

 

"Hello," he said. "My name's Ori."

 

Kíli bolted.

 

Bilbo sighed as the dwarrows watched him go, startled. This was just the same as the first time Kíli had met Poppy, one of Bilbo's second cousins. That had ended badly; with Poppy telling Kíli she would rather kiss a Man than kiss him. Bilbo had let Falco know exactly what he thought of his daughter's behaviour over their next game of conkers.

 

"I'm sorry," Bilbo sighed. "He does that a lot."

 

"Was it something I said?" Ori asked, bewildered. Bilbo shook his head.

 

"No, no, that's just Kíli," he said with a smile.

 

"Kíli?" Ori repeated. "His name is _Kíli?_ "

 

"Yes," Bilbo's smile faded. "Is there a problem?"

 

"No, not at all," Frerin threw an arm around Ori's shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze. "Ori, meet Bilbo Baggins. He's bought a lot from us, so take his name down. Tell me, Mister Baggins, do you live around here?"

 

"Oh yes, Bag End," Bilbo said proudly. "Up the end of Bag Shot road! Finest hobbit hole in the whole of Hobbiton, in the whole of The Shire, even!"

 

"Wonderful," Frerin said, nudging Ori. "Well, we'll be sure to call on you next time we visit."

 

Bilbo finished his purchases and made his way back to Bag End, whistling happily at the prospect of dwarrows regularly visiting Hobbiton. Kíli would be happy; it would allow him to buy more supplies rather than travelling to Bree!

 

He didn't notice the contemplative looks on their faces as he left.

 

\---

 

Despite what they said Bilbo did not see the dwarrows again for another two years.

 

Bilbo didn't mention them to Kíli, and Kíli didn't mention them to Bilbo, but the older hobbit found several crude sketches of the young Ori around Kíli's room.

 

That's not to say dwarrows didn't visit The Shire. In fact, more than ever before came, trading their wares. It unsettled Kíli, as they all took to gaping at him as he passed. Bilbo spoke with a few, asking after Frerin and Ori, but always was turned away.

 

It was just as winter set in, when the dwarrows had set out, that a heavy knock came to the door of Bag End. Bilbo frowned as he waved a hand at Kíli, telling him to sit back down before the fire. A winter storm was raging out there; it would have been a struggle for whoever was there to reach them!

 

Bilbo hurried to the door, opening it cautiously. A flurry of snow blew in, and Bilbo's eyes widened at the sight of the huge person on his door step. They were tall, taller than any hobbit he knew, taller than Kíli, but not so tall that he would not fit within Bag End.

 

"Who are you?" Bilbo squeaked. "Who wanders the snow on a night like this?"

 

"I would have been here earlier, but I lost my way twice," a deep voice grumbled from the hood of the cloak as the person stepped inside. "This is not an easy place to find."

 

"Who are you?' Bilbo repeated, backing nervously away from the stranger. "Speak now!"

 

The door was slammed shut against the wind easily, and the hood of the cloak was thrown off. Bilbo stumbled back as the dwarf moved forward. His hair was black and brushed back from his face, thick braids stood along the side of his face. His beard was clipped short and his eyes were a hard sapphire. His nose was strong, and it made his face all the more handsome.

 

"My name is Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór," he announced in his deep rumble. His gaze was hard as he looked upon Bilbo. "And I have come for my nephew."

 

\----

 

Thorin Durin, or Thorin Oakenshield as he was known, was no stranger to loss.

 

He lost his Kingdom, his homeland, his Grandfather and his Father. He packed up his people and travelled to the Blue Mountains, taking extra care of his heavily pregnant sister. However, the road was not kind to Dís, and they were forced to stop in the funny little town of Hobbiton, in The Shire.

 

But Dís had given birth to a healthy, if undersized, baby boy. Her second. Thorin threw himself into helping raise the child, as the father had perished before Dís even knew of the babe.

 

But this child was not the same as any dwarfling Thorin had ever seen.

 

Born early, it was no surprise he was undersized, but he remained that way, no matter how much they fed him up. His hair grew into a ridiculous riot of black curls that protested to any braids that Dís tried to force them into. His eyes remained such a bright blue, brighter than Thorin's own.

 

He hated his clothes and his training. He would rather sit and read a good book than learn to throw an axe. He snuck out of his training constantly and could be found outside the mountains, basking in the sun and prodding at the plants nearby.

 

He named himself Frodo.

 

It was such a strange name for a dwarf. Dís had shrugged and petted his curls. She loved him regardless, and was blind to the strangeness Thorin could see.

  
Thorin adored both his nephews, he truly did, but Frodo was just so _strange._ He insisted on climbing in Thorin's lap and hearing a story, something Fíli never did. Thorin had to admit he did secretly adore the attention he received from his nephew, as dwarrows were not overly affectionate as a rule, and having this tiny dwarfling curled up in his lap, clinging to his shirt and falling asleep against him warmed Thorin's heart.

 

But the more Frodo grew the stranger he was. And grow he did! Never very tall, but he seemed to age so very fast! He grew very secretive when he turned seven, hiding in his room for long periods of time. The only thing that never changed was that he craved affection, and physical touches. He would still clamber onto Thorin's lap, despite being past the age of it being acceptable. Not that Thorin ever complained.

 

He became fast friends with Ori, the youngest Brother of Ri. They shared interests in being very bookish, and very quiet. Thorin never thought he'd see the day where one of the lines of Durin would turn to books over weapons, but there was a first time for everything.

 

It was only when Frerin returned from trading in The Shire, taking Fíli and Ori with him, that the tiny spark of Thorin's worry over Frodo was fanned into a full force flame. He sat numbly by as Frerin and Fíli ranted over the hobbit lad, the one with small feet and stubble on his face, the one who was entranced by the fiddle, had his own forge and carried a sword, the one called _Kíli,_ that Thorin sat back to have a long think.

 

And think he did.

 

He thought for a long time, and he observed Frodo. He saw his love of nature. He saw his curly hair. He saw his feet, massive even for a dwarf. He loved the boy; he truly did, but if what Frerin was saying was true...

 

And then after two long years of thinking, Thorin sat Dís down and explained his findings.

 

Dís had slapped him and refused to hear any more.

 

It had taken a huge shouting match and Frerin's reminder that a hobbit lass had given birth in the room over from hers at the same time for Dís to finally accept what they were saying.

 

"You listen here, Thorin Oakenshield," she had said tearfully. "Frodo is my son, through and through. As much as Fíli is. But if what you say is true, you will go to The Shire and you will bring my other son home straight away! I want all three of my boys together!"

 

And so Thorin set out. He bumped foreheads with Fíli, allowed Frodo to cling to his waist, and pressed a kiss to Dís's head before he set out.

 

The road was hard. Winter was here, and Thorin had to hurry if he wanted to arrive and return before the worst of it set in. Luck wasn't on his side - it never was - and he lost his way several times, arriving in Hobbiton just as a storm hit. He was pointed in the direction of this 'Bag End' and managed to stumble his way there.

 

The creature that opened the door stunned Thorin speechless. He was staring with wide terrified eyes up at him, and all Thorin could see was Frodo, facing down Fíli and his swords. The hobbit had shouted at him, demanding his name, and Thorin had been drawn inside like a moth to the flame. The little hobbit was rugged up in a warm, soft-looking robe, his collarbones exposed almost obscenely.

 

"Who are you?! Speak now!"

 

"My name is Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór. And I have come for my nephew."

 

\----

 

Bilbo felt as though his heart had stopped in his chest. His eyes remained locked with the dwarf; he was unable to move, barely able to process what he was hearing.

 

"Y-You must be mistaken, Master Thorin," he stuttered out at last. "There are no dwarrows here."

 

"Don't try and deceive me, hobbit," Thorin growled, advancing on Bilbo. "Where is he?"

 

"I d-don't know what you mean!" Bilbo cried as he was backed up against the wall. "There are no dwarrows here!"

 

Thorin let out a wordless snarl and grabbed two fistfuls of Bilbo's robe, lifting him up off the ground so that their faces were level. Bilbo shrieked as his feet kicked wildly.

 

"I will ask you once more," Thorin whispered lowly. "Where is my nephew?"

 

"Drop him!"

 

Bilbo closed his eyes in defeat as Thorin turned his head. Bilbo bit back a whimper as he looked to the entry of the drawing room.

 

There stood Kíli, face drawn tight in anger, sword clasped in his hand, pointed straight at Thorin.

 

"What did you say?" Thorin's voice was low and deep, but there was a faint trace of something else in there, something that sounded suspiciously like wonder.

 

"I said," Kíli's scowl deepened and he swung the sword around before pointing it at Thorin again. "Drop him."

 

Thorin let go of Bilbo's robe, and the hobbit collapsed in a heap on the floor, panting heavily. Thorin stepped past him, completely focused on Kíli now.

 

"You think you can use that on me, boy?" he asked, amusement thick in his voice. "You think you can best me in a sword fight?"

 

"I don't need to best you," Kíli was clearly on edge. "I just need to distract you."

 

"Distract me?" Thorin's brow crinkled in confusion. "Distract me from what."

 

_CLANG!_

 

The great dwarf tumbled to the ground, unconscious. Bilbo shakily lowered the ornate hat stand he had used to smack him over the head, eyes wide with terror still.

 

Kíli let out a whoop as he dashed forward towards Bilbo. "Well done, Uncle! Quick, help me tie him up!"

 

"Tie him u- Kíli! He's going to _kill_ us when he wakes!" Bilbo cried, leaning heavily on the hat stand now. "And what did I say about unsheathed swords in the house?!"

 

"I had to, Uncle," Kíli looked at him then, dead serious. "I need to protect you."

 

"Kíli, what are we going to do?" Bilbo whimpered as he stared down at the unconscious dwarf. "What does he want?"

 

"Me, of course, Uncle," Kíli said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He stepped over Thorin, tugging the dwarf's hands behind his back. "Fetch the rope in my room, would you? It's got a wire core, and it won't come undone easy."

 

"No I will no- Kíli! We are not tying him up!" Bilbo hissed. "We are going to wait for him to wake, politely explain the misunderstanding, and then send him on his way."

 

Thorin let out a groan and shuffled. The movement revealed the wicked sharp sword sheathed in his belt. Bilbo and Kíli stared at it for a moment before they looked up, eyes meeting again.

 

"Where did you say that rope was, my boy?"

 

\----

 

When Thorin came to he almost wished he hadn't.

 

Had he really been bested by his nephew and a _hobbit?_ Oh his father was turning in his grave! A cup was forced to his lips and he drank the tea that was forced into his mouth.

 

"What did you hit me with?" he mumbled as he shook off the daze of unconsciousness. "Please tell me it was a weapon."

 

"A hat stand, actually."

 

"When people ask," Thorin grumbled, blinking rapidly. Something wasn't right, he shouldn't feel this woozy. "It was a club. A very big club."

 

"Why are you here?" the hobbit came into view then, crouching before Thorin. "What do you want?"

 

"What did you put in my tea?" Thorin tried to be angry, but he was too dopey to really muster any rage. "I feel... strange."

 

"Just an herb to keep you calm," Bilbo looked almost ashamed of his actions. "I'm sorry, but you are very strong. I fear for my safety and the safety of my nephew if you get free."

 

"You're very pretty," Thorin mumbled stupidly, still gazing at lovely brown eyes. "Prettiest... Prettiest hobbit I've ever seen."

 

Bilbo flushed a dark red and Thorin could hear Kíli laughing nearby.

 

"Kíli!" he slurred, jerking his head lazily up. He was tied to a thick chair in what appeared to be a drawing room. "M-My... nephew..."

 

"Uncle Bilbo, what do we do now?"

 

"Drugging him appeared to be a mistake... let's wait for it to wear off and then we'll try talking to him again."

 

"Mmm... here for Kíli," Thorin tried to explain, waiting the pretty hobbit to look at him again. "He's my nephew... s'got an older brother, Fíli."

 

"Fíli?"

 

"Kíli, don't listen to him."

 

"No, you said... Fíli? Was he... Was he the one with the fiddle?"

 

"Plays well," Thorin nodded, feeling his head clear a little at the movement. "He's five... five times... no, that's not right... five _years_ older than you."

 

"Look, you're mistaken; Kíli is _not_ your nephew!"

 

"Uncle... be realistic..."

 

"I _am,_ Kíli! I was there the day you were born! The same day as me!"

 

"September twenty-second," Thorin confirmed, lifting his head to stare at the two. Kíli was seated on a low lounge wringing his hands nervously while Bilbo paced before him. "The day my sister Dís gave birth here in Hobbiton."

 

Bilbo sat down heavily on the armchair, eyes wide and panicked. "The dwarf in the room over from Primula. That was..."

 

"Dís," Thorin nodded. His head was mostly clear now. "She gave birth to a healthy boy with blue eyes and black hair. We took him home days later."

 

"Uncle... is it possible?"

 

Bilbo let out a wretched noise and flew from the seat to Kíli's side, wrapping his arms around the boy's shoulders and drawing him in to a tight hug.

 

"You are my nephew!" he whispered, almost to himself. "You are the son of Primula and Drogo Baggins!"

 

"But my feet..." Kíli's voice was almost lost in Bilbo's embrace, but his brown eyes were peeking out, locked on Thorin. "And my ears... And Uncle, I'm so _different._ "

 

Thorin's heart tugged at that, as he heard that statement so many times from Frodo's lips.

 

"There's nothing wrong with being different," Bilbo sounded on the verge of tears now. "You're perfect, Kíli, perfect."

 

"But not the perfect hobbit," Kíli whispered. "But maybe... the perfect dwarf..."

 

Bilbo broke down at that, sobbing heavily into Kíli's hair. Kíli clutched him back, rocking his little uncle back and forth, letting him cry out his pain.

 

And Thorin almost wished he hadn't done this. Almost wished he hadn't broken this happy family.

 

But Kíli needed to come home.

 

\----

 

Bilbo sobbed himself out in Kíli's arms, clutching him tight. It was all making sense now, how different Kíli was, how he never fit in, how he was always drawn to such dwarfish traits - smithing and fighting. He certainly looked like a dwarf, once you looked past the hobbit clothing.

 

"Uncle Bilbo, please," Kíli whispered into his hair. "Please, don't cry."

 

"He needs to let it out."

 

At the gruff voice Bilbo leapt out of the circle of Kíli's arms, pointing an accusing finger at Thorin. "You! You did this! Why? We were happy! Why did you have to ruin it?"

 

"Because Kíli needs to come home," Thorin said with a glare. "He is needed."

 

"Kíli _is_ home!" Bilbo hissed. "He was raised _here._ He lives _here._ I am his family! Not you!"

 

"He is _my_ nephew!" Thorin roared back. "Not yours!"

 

"I raised him!" Bilbo cried. "And you're not taking him away!"

 

"Hey! Shut up!"

 

They both looked over to Kíli who was glaring down at them both. "I'm not going anywhere! Bilbo _is_ my Uncle. But... But if what _he_ is saying is true, then I have family... I have a brother, and a mother."

 

"You _have_ a mother," Bilbo protested. "Primula Baggins!"

 

"She's my Ma," Kíli said quietly. "She raised me, and I love her dearly still, I've missed her every day she's been gone. But I have a _Mother_ still alive. And a brother!"

 

"Two brothers," Thorin spoke up quietly. He locked eyes with Kíli, ignoring Bilbo. "You share a birthday with the younger, Frodo."

 

"Now wait just a minute!" Bilbo whirled on Thorin, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You can't take Kíli and keep Frodo!"

 

"What?" Thorin crinkled his brow. "What does Frodo have to do with this?"

 

"If what you say is true, and they were switched at birth," Bilbo said angrily, hands on his hips. "Then Frodo belongs _here,_ in the Shire! You can't take Kíli and keep Frodo!"

 

"You... You cannot have my nephew," Thorin sounded astonished by the idea. "Frodo is back in the Blue Mountains with his mother."

 

"With his _adopted_ mother!" Bilbo snapped. "If you even _think_ you're taking Kíli then I want Frodo back!"

 

"You cannot have my nephew!"

 

"And you cannot have mine!"

 

Bilbo and Thorin stared at each other for long moments before Kíli moved. He stepped behind Bilbo, wrapping his arms tight around him and holding him close.

 

"Let's calm down for a moment," he said soothingly. "Uncle Bilbo, please. No one's going anywhere."

 

"Not true," Thorin snapped. "The second my hands are free we're leaving."

 

"I don't think so," Kíli said with a cheeky grin. He spun Bilbo to look outside the nearby window. "What do you see, Uncle?"

 

"I see snow, Kíli, you moron, what am I supposed to se- oh."

 

"What?" Thorin was rocking the chair, trying to jump it towards the window. "What is it?"

 

"The Shire Beacons are lit," Bilbo said softly. "The roads are snowed over. Winter is well and truly here."

 

"Snowed over?" Thorin looked horrified. "What do you mean, snowed over?"

 

"When the snows reach a certain strength the Shire closes down," Bilbo explained tiredly as he crossed to the fire, warming his hands. "The roads are impassable; the Rangers don't let us leave the towns. We're stuck here, until the snows die down."

 

"Stu- I'm stuck here in this hobbit hole?!"

 

"Indeed," Bilbo said coldly. He crossed behind the dwarf and untied his ropes easily. "Welcome to Bag End, Master Thorin, and your home for the next month or so."

 

\----

 

Thorin only tried to leave three times, surprisingly.

 

The first time he made it to the edge of Hobbiton before the Rangers turned him back. The second time Bilbo caught him leaving in the night and berated him about frostbite for a decent hour. The third time he simply opened the door to Bag End and a pile of snow fell on him, much to Kíli's amusement.

 

Kíli seemed to think the whole thing was great fun. He convinced Bilbo to clear a spare room out so that he and Thorin could practise their sword skills. Bilbo drew the line at archery in the house. Bilbo often found Kíli and Thorin training together, and then afterwards sitting and talking lowly about the Blue Mountains and the family there. It made Bilbo's heart ache to see Kíli bonding so close with his uncle, because Kíli looked so happy. Thorin began to teach Kíli the hidden languages of the dwarrows, and Kíli picked it up at a freakish speed.

 

But Bilbo was not forgotten. Kíli often curled up with him on the lounge, head in Bilbo's lap, to listen to a story. He snuck up behind the hobbit as he cooked for them all, wrapping long limbs around him and pestering him for bites.

  
They were almost a family.

 

Bilbo and Thorin had come to a stand-off. Bilbo stayed out of the dwarf's way and the dwarf stayed out of the hobbit's way. Bilbo included him in all the meals, and Thorin silently did the washing up, much to Bilbo's surprise. The large dwarf braved the cold to chop firewood, occasionally dragging Kíli with him, and wouldn't let Bilbo set foot outside the house.

 

The stand-off broke eventually, one evening when Bilbo had been packing his pipe for an evening smoke. Thorin had pulled his own pouch out, but after taking a look inside of it he simply set it aside again, his own pipe unlit. Bilbo had hesitated for a moment before he handed his pouch over wordlessly. He hoarded pipeweed like he horded food - he could spare some. Thorin had hesitated for a long moment before he took the pouch with a nod of thanks. They had sat side by side, smoking in silence, until Thorin had broken it, asking about Kíli's childhood. It had become their own little tradition from then on; they would sit for an evening smoke together and while Bilbo filled Thorin in on stories of Kíli's childhood Thorin would do the same with tales of Frodo. These evenings gave Bilbo hope - Hope that Thorin would see he was more than capable of raising Kíli, hope that Thorin would see how much he loved Kíli, and hope that Thorin would see _him,_ as Bilbo was seeing the dwarf.

 

And when Kíli dragged Bilbo to the lounge in the evening, laying across his lap and demanding a story, Thorin would settle in the nearby armchair and listen in quietly, smoking his pipe with his eyes on the fire.

 

Bilbo never allowed the winter to make him lazy. While Kíli and Thorin had language lessons and sword practise he would labour away in the study, writing his stories and archiving the family history. He stubbornly refused to write Kíli out. The boy was as much a part of the Baggins family as he was of any dwarf family!

 

It near broke his heart to pass by the training room one night to hear Thorin and Kíli quietly discussing the family back in the Blue Mountains. Kíli was eagerly asking about his brothers, with a not at all subtle question about Ori slipped in occasionally. Bilbo simply stood by the door and listened, almost shocked at the love and pride in Thorin's voice as he spoke of Frodo.

 

It was that night that Bilbo retreated to his bedroom early before Kíli could plead for a story, and there he sat and he thought.

 

He thought long and hard on many subjects, the one at the forefront of his mind being Kíli and Frodo. From the way Thorin talked Frodo held a special place in his heart, and the boy was as beloved in the Blue Mountains as he could ever be here. Thorin clearly spoilt him, Fíli was very protective of his delicate brother, his mother nurtured his strange habits and encouraged them, and Frerin would quickly show anyone who spoke ill of the strange little boy that he was not without protectors.

 

And who was Bilbo to take the boy away from all that?

 

What could he offer Frodo really? An empty hobbit hole and a fussy uncle who spent all day behind a desk? Could he really take Frodo away from a loving family and thrust him into a life of loneliness? Could he expect the boy to adapt? Could he expect the hobbits to accept him?

 

It was with this in mind that Bilbo rose early the next day and locked himself in his mother's old sewing room. There, he set to work.

 

Kíli came by several times, demanding to be let in. Bilbo ignored him. A heavier thump at the door announced Thorin.

 

"Master Baggins, will you not come out?"

 

Bilbo ignored him.

 

"Kíli is worried."

 

Bilbo concentrated as he adjusted the hem once more.

 

"...Bilbo, _I_ am worried."

 

Bilbo's hands faltered at that, but he ploughed on. A heavy sigh sounded through the door and then footsteps as the dwarf retreated.

 

It was late in the evening when he emerged, bundle clutched tight in his arms. He shuffled into the drawing room, eyes on his feet.

 

"Uncle Bilbo!" Kíli exclaimed, hurrying towards him. "What happened? We were so worried! Uncle Thorin almost broke down the door!"

 

Bilbo felt his face flush at the thought of Thorin being so worried that he would break down a locked door to get to him, but he quickly shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind and simply shoved the bundle into Kíli's arms.

 

"Uncle Bilbo, what are-"

 

"Please," Bilbo whispered eyes still on his feet. "Just put them on."

 

Kíli looked like he wanted to say more but he obeyed, patting Bilbo's shoulder as he passed. Bilbo shuffled to the lounge, as Thorin was occupying the armchair as always. He stared down at his feet as silence filled the room.

 

"Kíli was very worried," Thorin said at last, his voice a deep rumble. "...As was I."

 

"There is nothing to worry yourself over, Master Dwarf," Bilbo said softly, lifting his head to look at Thorin at last. "Least of all me."

 

"You worry me quite often, Master Hobbit," Thorin said as he held eye contact with Bilbo. "I would not see you distressed if I could help it."

 

"And why should it matter to you," Bilbo said slowly, his cheeks slowly growing red. "If I am distressed or not?"

 

"It matters a great deal," Thorin said. He stood from the chair and crossed to sit beside Bilbo, eyes boring down into his. "You are... I would see you happy all the time, Bilbo, and I would not see pain in those eyes, Ghivasha."

 

"Thorin..." Bilbo stared up at him, unsure of what to say to that. The dwarf was so... strange. One moment he was making Kíli help him haul in buckets of snow to boil on the stove so that Bilbo could have a hot bath; the next he was secretively muttering in the dwarf language to Kíli and shooting Bilbo dark looks.

 

"Uncle! Uncle Bilbo! I don't understand!"

 

Bilbo scrambled away from Thorin as Kíli burst back into room. He was dressed in the clothes Bilbo had slaved away over all day - clothes he had stolen from Thorin and altered.

 

They were still a little off, as Bilbo was not the best at sewing, but the basic look was the same, and it broke Bilbo's heart. Kíli was staring down at himself in wonder as he took in the dark blue tunic and thick breeches. He was dressed as a dwarf ought to be, the only thing missing being shoes.

 

"Uncle, why?" Kíli asked brown eyes wide in his face.

 

"Because a proper dwarf should have proper clothes," Bilbo whispered as his own eyes filled with tears. "And you'll need them if you're to fit in once you leave for the Blue Mountains."

 

"Leave for-" Kíli gaped at him. "Uncle Bilbo, I'm not going anywhere!"

 

"Yes you are!" Bilbo snapped. He crossed to straighten Kíli's collar out. "You're going home where your family is waiting for you."

 

"Uncle, _you're_ my family!"

 

"You must do this Kíli," Bilbo said, his eyes watering. He looked up and held Kíli's distressed gaze. "And if you truly hate it there then you can come back. But I want you to promise me that you'll try. You belong with other dwarrows, Kíli, not here with hobbits. You'll be happy there, I know you will."

 

"Uncle..."

 

"And you must write!" Bilbo tugged Kíli's collar viciously. "You will write to me every week!"

 

"Uncle, I can't-"

 

"You can, Kíli!"

 

"I don't want to leave you!"

 

With that Bilbo promptly burst into tears. He pressed his face to Kíli's shirt and felt arms come around him in return. Kíli held him as he cried himself out, making noises of distress into his hair. When Bilbo stepped back he saw that Kíli's eyes were glistening. Bilbo turned away from him to face Thorin, wiping the tears on his face half-heartedly.

 

"You take care of him," Bilbo whispered fiercely. "Or I'll kill you myself."

 

And then Bilbo fled to his room, ignoring Kíli's shouts behind him. He slammed the door shut and locked it before he allowed the tears to pour out of him at full force.

 

\----

 

The days passed slowly after that.

 

Thorin was preparing Kíli for life in the Blue Mountains, though the boy was still denying he would be going. Bilbo could see the excitement in his eyes whenever Thorin spoke, however, and he knew the boy would be leaving.

 

Kíli tried to talk to him about it every day, but Bilbo would send him away with a frown. He had made his decision; he didn't want to discuss it. He just wanted to enjoy the time he had left with Kíli. He wanted Kíli to be as prepared as he could for the Blue Mountains.

 

So it was an early afternoon that Bilbo approached Thorin, hands wringing before him. Kíli was studying languages in his room while Thorin went over their weapons.

 

"Thorin..." he said softly, drawing the attention of the dwarf.  "Can you... Can you teach me how to braid?"

 

Thorin set aside his blade and shifted to face Bilbo, studying his face. Bilbo held his head high and refused to admit his hands were trembling. Thorin seemed to see something in face that made him swallow what he was about to say and simply nod.

 

"Come, sit," the dwarf gestured to the seat beside him. He took up a set of laces from the nearby table and tied three of them together. He then stabbed the knot with a knife to keep it anchored to the table. "We'll begin simply, with the three strand braid..."

 

And so that became another part of the routine. After lunch Bilbo and Thorin would retreat to the training room while Kíli studied and Bilbo would learn to braid. Eventually as he grew more confident and he learnt more braids he moved from practising on laces to practising on Thorin's hair.

 

And wasn't that a change! Bilbo seated on the chair, Thorin on the floor before him, all that thick silky hair racing through his fingers. Bilbo often sat back and simply ran his fingers through the strands under the pretence of detangling, not that Thorin ever called him out on it. It was through these lessons that Bilbo learnt that if he focused on the hair behind Thorin's ears the dwarf would slowly drift off.

 

And so it was as the snows melted and Hobbiton woke up again, almost three full months since Thorin had come to The Shire, that Bilbo took Kíli aside one night and carefully brushed and braided his hair, threading in and capping on the small beads that Thorin had made for Bilbo, the beads that had brought a tear to his eye as Thorin explained what they were all inscribed with, just as Bilbo explained as he threaded them onto Kíli's locks.

 

"The primrose represents your mother, and the love she held for you."

 

"The vittles’ represent your father, for he loved you more than his food."

 

"The boat represents your loss, which we will never forget."

 

"The hill represents Bag End, which is always waiting for you."

 

"The forge represents your true family, and the love you will find there."

 

And then Bilbo slid the last bead onto the braid, his voice choked with tears. This bead was by far the nicest, set with two brown topazes, the same colour as both Bilbo's and Kíli's eyes.

 

"And the jewel represents my love for you, as you are the greatest treasure in my life, and always will be."

 

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Kíli's shoulders at that and wept into his hair. Kíli's body shook with the force of his own silent sobs, and Bilbo peered up to see Thorin in the door way, tears in his own eyes as he watched the two.

 

Three days later the roads were declared clear, and Bilbo's heart broke all over again.

 

\----

 

The hobbits of The Shire were quite taken with Thorin.

  
As they made their way through the marketplace of Hobbiton, picking up what supplies they could from the few traders that braved the cold, they were swooned over, interrogated and generally watched. The hobbit women in particular flocked to Thorin, much to his distress and Bilbo's amusement.

 

It was not as amusing, however, when Bilbo found himself cornered by Dodinas Brandybucks not moments later. The hobbit had never understood why Bilbo did not want to be courted by him, and therefore would not give up his suit.

 

"Come now, Bilbo," he crooned as he moved in closer, bringing up a hand to touch Bilbo's face. "Come around for tea! I have a lovely spread I'm sure you'll appreciate, just like you have one I'm sure _I_ will..."

 

A heavy hand landed on Dodinas's shoulder and he was dragged back away from Bilbo. Bilbo watched in fascination as Thorin leant in and snarled something low into Dodinas's ear that had the hobbit paling and darting off. Thorin then turned his angry gaze to Bilbo.

 

"Who was that?" he demanded. "And why was he touching you?"

 

"His name is Dodinas Brandybuck," Bilbo explained as he crossed to Thorin's side. Thorin wordlessly took the basket from his hands. "He doesn't understand that I don't wish to be courted."

 

"Don't wish to be courted?" Thorin repeated as he they made their way out of the market. "Or don't wish to be courted by _him_?"

 

Bilbo flushed as he gazed back up into Thorin's eyes. "I don't wish to be courted... by him."

 

Thorin smirked at that before nodding and turning his eyes to face the path before him. Bilbo's face was flushed as he hurried along beside the dwarf.

 

The flush remained the whole night. Only when Kíli retreated to his forge - which he had greatly missed during the long winter months - did Bilbo find himself seated beside Thorin on the lounge, smoking in silence.

 

"So the hobbit in the market," Thorin began without preamble. "He has tried to corner you before?"

 

"Often," Bilbo said with a nod and a heavy sigh. "He scares off other suitors as well."

 

"There are other suitors?"

 

Bilbo smiled at the sight of Thorin's hand curling into a fist on his knee. He did not know what made him bold enough to reach over and cover the closed fist with his own hand, but he greatly enjoyed the thrumming in his veins that it drew out. "Not any that I do not mind him scaring off."

 

Thorin stared at their hands for a long moment, and Bilbo almost thought he had made a mistake, until Thorin flipped his hand and caught Bilbo's in his own. He set his pipe aside and turned to face Bilbo, who quickly set his own pipe down.

 

"If you were in the Blue Mountains I would lay down the challenge," he said seriously, staring into Bilbo's eyes.

 

"Oh my," Bilbo smiled shakily up at Thorin. "I'm... I'm not quite sure what that means..."

 

"In dwarf courting, if a suitor is interested in someone, they lay down a challenge to all other suitors," Thorin explained. "That they will prove themselves in combat against all others for their love."

 

"Sounds violent..." Bilbo whispered, his face heating up.

 

"Not often," Thorin shook his head. "Only if a suitor is truly serious will he answer the challenge, and then it is upon the dwarf who is being courted to decide which dwarf they desire as a spouse, be it the winner or loser. Dís had to fight only two other dwarrows for her husband's hand after she laid down the challenge."

 

Thorin lifted Bilbo's hand to his lips and pressed the softest kiss there.

 

"I would lay down the challenge for you, Bilbo Baggins," he whispered, eyes locked onto Bilbo's. "But I would not saddle you with a husband who is so far away. I cannot leave my people and you cannot leave your Shire."

 

The door flew open before Bilbo could respond and Kíli stomped inside looking truly miserable. Bilbo flew off the lounge and shoved the young dwarf before the fire, hoping to heat him up quickly.

 

"What is it, lad?" Bilbo asked as he set the kettle to boil. "What's wrong?"

 

"The forge is all packed," Kíli said gloomily. "As is my room."

 

"Oh..." Bilbo took a deep breath as he returned to face the two. He plastered a fake smile across his face. "Then you'd best be off to bed after this cuppa. A good night's rest and all that."

 

"Yeah," Kíli stared moodily into the fire until Bilbo crossed to wrap his arms around his shoulders. Kíli instantly buried his face into Bilbo's chest.

 

"There, there, lad," Bilbo murmured. "It'll be okay."

 

"I love you," Kíli whispered softly. Bilbo smiled and pressed a kiss to his head.

 

"And I, you."

 

He sent Kíli to bed shortly after with another hard hug. He stood staring down the hall as the door closed behind him, and when Thorin moved behind him Bilbo leant heavily back against him.

 

"Bilbo?"

 

"Come to bed with me," Bilbo whispered. He felt Thorin shuffle behind him and he spun, grasping two handfuls of the dwarf's tunic as he did so. "No, don't go. I want this. Come to bed with me."

 

"It isn't proper," Thorin whispered as he cupped Bilbo's face softly. "I would do right by you, not treat you like a common strumpet."

 

"If you wish to do right by me," Bilbo pressed a kiss to the hand cupping his face. "Then take me to bed. I've been a bachelor for the longest time, Thorin, and I have been content with it. But I will not have you leave me tomorrow without at least leaving a part of yourself with me. Give me one night. Please."

 

"Bilbo-"

 

" _Please,_ Thorin. Would you have me beg?"

 

With a groan Thorin closed the distance between them, sealing his lips over Bilbo's. Bilbo arched up into the kiss, whimpering as Thorin skilfully stole his breath.

 

"I would have you beg," Thorin whispered against his lips. "But the sight would have me come undone."

 

"Thorin-"

 

Thorin silenced the hobbit with his lips once more, and Bilbo gave over completely, opening his mouth and allowing Thorin entry. A deep groan sounded and the dwarf took it.

 

Bilbo wasn't sure when they reached his room, but he had a moment to catch his breath as Thorin locked the door behind himself. Bilbo blinked to clear his mind as he reached for Thorin, feeling those wonderful arms wrap around him once more.

 

"Take me to bed," Bilbo whispered as he pulled Thorin's lips down to his.

 

From there it was a blur. Hands fumbled with laces, clothing was tossed aside and Bilbo found himself thrown on the bed. Moments later Thorin joined him, his body as hot as a furnace as he pressed down on the hobbit. Bilbo arched against him, small legs wrapping eagerly around the dwarf.

 

Thorin worshipped his body. He started at the top, sucking softly on Bilbo's tipped ears and drawing loud cries from the hobbit. He moved down to ravish his mouth again before working his way down to his throat. Bilbo mumbled incoherently as the dwarf sucked up several possessive marks along the column, nipping softly and whispering words in Khuzdul that Bilbo didn't understand but instinctively knew to be words of endearment.

 

"Ghivashel," Thorin whispered against Bilbo's chest as he tormented his nipples, earning pleads from the hobbit.

 

"Àzyungel..." was pressed to his stomach as Thorin ran his lips over the soft flesh there.

 

There was a moment of fumbling when Bilbo sent Thorin to the vanity for a pot of massage oil, but as soon as he returned their rhythm returned.

 

And then Thorin got his wish, as Bilbo begged most beautifully as the dwarf used his fingers to prepare him, watching in fascination as Bilbo's blush danced down his chest and lower. After several drawn out moments of this Thorin gave in to his desires and pushed into his love, groaning into Bilbo's shoulder as they became one.

 

It was perfect. The hobbit shamelessly cried out for more, scratching at Thorin's back in an effort to get closer to the dwarf. Thorin was grunting low words into his ear that Bilbo didn't understand, and if the dwarf slipped between Common and Khuzdul Bilbo would never know, as he was too far gone, focused on the pleasure racing through him.

 

When Bilbo reached his completion it was with a shout of Thorin's name as the dwarf bit his neck, his own end running through him.

 

"Did I satisfy you entirely?" Thorin asked teasingly as he held Bilbo close. Bilbo buried his face against Thorin's neck.

 

"We hobbits are greedy creatures," he whispered cheekily. "We always have room for more."

 

Thorin chuckled and ran a hand down Bilbo's back. Bilbo squirmed against him pleasantly, smiling up at the dwarf.

 

"Bilbo," Thorin pressed a kiss to the hobbit's forehead, a strange look in his eyes. "May I... May I braid a bead into your hair?"

 

"My hair?" Bilbo's brow crinkled. "Is it long enough?"

 

"It is indeed," Thorin murmured as he reached behind Bilbo's right ear. "Just here."

 

"Then by all means," Bilbo nuzzled against Thorin.

 

There was a moment of protest as the dwarf rose to find his belt and the pouch on it. He quickly withdrew what he needed and then returned to the bed. With a bit of manoeuvring  Bilbo found himself seated upon Thorin's lap, the dwarf combing his hair with his fingers.

 

Once Thorin had readied the hair to be braided he began to sing softly.

 

The song was beautiful, and in Khuzdul, but Bilbo found himself humming along with Thorin. The dwarf's fingers danced skilfully along his hair, and when the song ends he capped the braid with a bead.

 

Bilbo squirmed to face Thorin, smiling broadly at him as he reached back to touch the braid.

 

"Promise me you'll keep it in," Thorin whispered against Bilbo's lips. "No matter what happens, promise you'll always braid it back in."

 

"I promise," Bilbo whispered as he pressed a kiss to Thorin's lips.

 

The dwarf lifted a hand, holding up another bead. "Your turn."

 

Bilbo nodded eagerly and started to shuffle from Thorin's lap, but the dwarf held him still with a hand on his hips. Thorin then reached up to one of the braids that framed his face and he quickly unravelled it.

 

Bilbo smiled and took the hair in hand, braiding it carefully. He hummed as he did so, an old Shire lullaby his mother had sung to him. As he braided he stared at the bead in his hand. It was beautiful, made of shining silver with ruins beaten into it. Bilbo would have to as Thorin what they said.

 

Once the bead was on and the braid was tied off Thorin launched forward, pinning Bilbo to the bed and kissing him thoroughly. Bilbo squeaked in surprise but tangled his hands into Thorin's hair regardless.

 

"Under the eyes of Mahal it is done," Thorin whispered into Bilbo's mouth.

 

Bilbo would have asked _what_ was done, but he was too busy tugging Thorin's mouth back down to his as he wrapped his legs around the dwarf, drawing him back in.

  
Thorin was leaving in the morn, so they only had one night. Bilbo intended to make the most of it.

 

\----

 

The sun was shining weakly the day that Kíli left Bag End.

 

The ponies Thorin had acquired pawed the ground on Bag Shot road impatiently as Kíli finished loading up the last one. That done he returned to Bilbo's side, wrapping his long arms around the hobbit and burying his face in brown hair.

 

"I'll come see you, I promise," Kíli whispered.  "I promise, Uncle."

 

"I know you will, lad, I know you will."

 

With one last tight hug Kíli tore himself away. He stumbled down to the road and through the gate, wiping furiously at his eyes as he did so.

 

Thorin gazed down at Bilbo for a long moment before he reached out to brush his fingers over the braid in the hobbit's hair. Bilbo blushed lightly and reached up to touch Thorin's own bead, earning him a soft smile from the dwarf.

 

"Until I see you again," Thorin murmured. "And I _will_ see you again."

 

"I look forward to it," Bilbo whispered softly. "Now go. Your nephew waits."

 

" _Our_ nephew," Thorin corrected him. He took Bilbo's hand and pressed a soft kiss to it. "Farewell, Master Hobbit."

 

"Farewell, Master Dwarf."

 

Bilbo watched as the ponies vanished down Bag Shot road, sorrow rising inside of him. He turned back to face Bag End, frighteningly empty for the first time in months.

 

"I will see them again soon," he told himself as he closed the door behind him. "It won't be long at all."

 

The years passed however, and only the odd letter made it from the Blue Mountains, much to Bilbo's dismay. But the hobbit had patience. He would wait this out. He would wait, and they would come. They would come back to him.

 

Ten long years later Bilbo decided he had waited long enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Will possibly do a sequel...
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/TanukiMara


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